


Eighteen Months to Life

by anyothergirl415



Category: Supernatural
Genre: M/M, Stanford Era
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-11-08
Updated: 2012-11-08
Packaged: 2017-11-18 05:44:56
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 1
Words: 8,983
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/557537
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/anyothergirl415/pseuds/anyothergirl415
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Their bond was always deeper than that of ordinary brothers. So it really wasn't a surprise that Sam would go above and beyond to save Dean's life.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Eighteen Months to Life

~2005~

There was a loud clatter from not-so-far away and Dean ducked his head, trying to make himself both invisible and strong all at once. Life could be shit – Dean had seen some of the worst of it – but living in this place was a whole new level of god damn awful. Dean grew up having the upper hand against ghosts and monsters and shit that went bump in the night. He’d never had to deal with people like _this_.

“Move it, pretty boy, ain’t got all day.” The prisoner waiting behind him huffed impatiently, knocking hard into Dean’s back.

Dean bit his tongue to keep from telling the big, beefy man with no hair and too many tattoos just how much time he really had when locked up twenty-four-seven. Instead, he shuffled forward, snatching the phone up and eagerly dialing Sam’s number. He lived for these little moments, one phone call a week, hearing Sam’s voice through the line like a balm over fresh wounds.

“Thank God, Dean,” Sam answered in a rush before the end of the first ring, like he’d been clutching his phone and desperately waiting for this moment.

Dean knew it was later than his usual call but a fight had broken out earlier; the jail had been in lockdown until after lunch. “Sorry, got caught up in my needlework. How’s school?”

Sam sighed and Dean wasn’t entirely sure why he kept making jokes, like that would somehow make things easier on them. “I’ve been doing some research; I think we can file an appeal for your case.”

“I signed a deal, Sam. Pretty sure that means no appeal,” Dean sighed, glancing over his shoulder as the asshole from before grunted impatiently. 

“That whole thing was fucked up. The death sentence shouldn’t even have been on the table. And the lawyer the state gave you was an idiot who wouldn’t know proper justice if it smacked him in the face. Deal or not, you deserve an appeal.”

“Time’s up, pretty boy,” the asshole growled, too close to Dean who could feel rancid breath as a heated rush over his ear.

“Just give me a second,” Dean snapped, inching away from the man and turning back to the phone in his grasp. “There’s no point, Sam. God, you know what they have against me.”

“And what? I’m supposed to be okay with never _being_ with you again?” Sam’s tone was clipped, a harsh slap that was painful.

“Hang up, fag, before I _make_ you.”

It was probably the buildup of everything – the bullshit trial that had ended in a deal to spare Dean’s life, Sam never leaving well enough alone, the fear of living in a place where he had to watch his back twenty four seven – that finally caused him to snap. Dean’s arm shot out and he threw all his force behind it, slamming the man hard against the metal bars. 

Sam was still on the line, could probably hear the smack of flesh as Dean’s fist crunched into the large man’s nose and shattered cartilage. The cheers of their fellow inmates echoed around them as the man staggered back, calling out a string of curses. The guards were closing in and Dean knew he barely had a moment to reach out and snatch the phone, pressing the plastic hard to his ear.

“I love you, Sam,” Dean whispered in a rush, sucking in a quick breath as the man dove forward and crushed him up against the wall.

Dean fought back with everything he had – his fist driving into the man’s large gut, his heel digging into the flesh of a calf – until the guards pulled sharply on his arms. Dean spit blood from his mouth; his jaw ached where the man had landed a blow. The other inmates were riled up like they always were at the sight of blood, and Dean had a whole new understanding of what he’d have to do to survive in this place.

This was a whole new level of Hell, and Dean was only three months into a life sentence.

~Now~

Someone was watching him cross the yard and it made Dean's shoulders tense up. _Damnit_. He didn't want another fight. Didn't want another session in solitary. Sometimes he was pretty sure the guards threw him in the dark silence for days on end because they were jealous. 

Not a lot of people had the kind of quiet, calm, masterful presence he'd established over the last eighteen months. Dean didn't want to control his fellow inmates, but he'd made it pretty damn clear that he wasn't someone to be fucked around with. It was the only way to survive in this place - hurting people wasn't like hunting supernatural shit, no matter what Dean tried to tell himself.

"What's up, boss? Need a hand? Should I get you something?" Twitchy Mike fidgeted at Dean’s side in that way he always did. He used to be a druggie, before he got locked up for trying - and failing - to rob a jewelry store; now he just suffered through the need for a fix, and he would always be someone's lemming.

"Don't call me boss," Dean grunted and turned slowly, keeping his gaze up because searching for the conflict wasn't going to get him very far. "Gonna go in for a minute, watch my back, yeah?"

"Okay yeah, yeah sure boss." Twitchy Mike nodded and scratched under his ear, through his hair, over his chest.

Dean rolled his eyes and crossed the yard, only vaguely aware of the path that was created for him. It didn't hurt to have the kind of reputation that scattered people, not in a place like this. But he couldn't shake the feeling that someone was keeping a closer eye on him than necessary. And maybe Dean didn't _want_ to fight anyone, but he would if he had to, if someone happened to forget just how much power he held.

As he stepped around the corner, his breath slowly deepened while his shoulders tensed, preparing himself for what was obviously about to come. He just hoped it wasn't one of the gangbangers, they tended to fight nasty with well hidden weapons that could do some serious damage. 

Something scuffed just behind him and Dean pursed his lips. So much for trusting Twitchy Mike to watch his back. The man was practically useless.

In a flash, Dean lurched, spinning back and catching the man hard around the neck and shoving him hard up against the wall. His gaze narrowed, his heart lurching into double-time, thudding heavily in his ears. Dean's arm was already drawn back, ready to slam his fist into the man's face with force.

"Dean."

It took a minute - a long one, with time slowing down in the strangest crawl - before Dean recognized the man standing before him. Everything in Dean kick-started once more and his lips parted, heart thudding in a different, stronger way. 

"Sam?" Dean stepped back, eyes scanning the full length of the boy - no, the man; he'd certainly become a man sometime in the last eighteen months - and settling on painfully familiar hazel eyes. "What the hell are you doing here?"

"Surprise?" Sam smirked and reached out, curling his fingers over Dean's hip and dragging him back in. "Not glad to see me?"

"Fuck, Sam." Dean lurched forward in the next moment, slanting his lips over his brother's in a hard kiss. He'd never been happier to see Sam, feel his lips firm against his own, feel the solid strength of heat from his body.

Fingers dug hard into his hair and Dean never really thought he’d feel this again. At least not for the next twenty years, and that was if he made parole. Dean moaned loud enough that his body shook, air hitching in his lungs.

"Sam," Dean breathed, then the shock vanished as he realized what it really meant: Sam being _here_. Stepping back, Dean slammed his brother hard into the wall, jaw clenching as he considered what a stupid idiot Sam was to get himself locked up. "What the fuck? What the hell have you done?"

A hiss fell from Sam's lips, his eyes growing wide for just a minute as he rubbed over the place where Dean's fingers had dug into his chest. "Ow. Ass. Thanks for making it so obvious why I love you."

When Sam just rolled his eyes, Dean couldn't help the slow smile from growing over his lips. Damn, he had missed his brother's smile. "Fuck you. I know you've been crying for me since I've been gone."

The grin that exploded across Sam's face was blinding, full of all those dimples and sunshine and irresistible things that had tangled Dean up with his brother in the first place. In the next beat, Sam was tugging him forward once more, crushing their lips together in another kiss that shook Dean to his core.

"I've come to get you out of here, big brother," Sam breathed into the kiss, thrusting his tongue forward.

Dean was pretty sure he couldn't be blamed for biting down on Sam's tongue after that.

~1998~

"Come on, Sammy! We gotta go!" Dean burst into the motel room and swallowed the - completely inappropriate - desire to laugh at his brother when he jumped off the bed in surprise.

But they'd been living like this for a long time - nearly all their lives - and Sam only needed half a minute to get his body into motion. Before he even asked why, he was pulling his bag up, shoving his clothes into it. They might have their moments - bickering over what TV channel to watch, full-out wrestling matches over who got the last piece of pizza - but when it came down to it, Sam knew him.

The urgency had to be clear in Dean's voice, or maybe it was the way he instantly started packing his own clothing, trying to fight the way his hands were shaking. 

What just happened? Had Dean really seen _that_?

"Dean?" Sam whispered several minutes later as he stuffed the last of his boxers into his bag and tugged the duffel closed. 

Inhaling shakily, Dean closed his own bag and stared down at it, wondering exactly how he'd make it now. How they'd make it. Was Dean even strong enough to do this?

"Where's Dad, Dean?" Sam was right next to him now, reaching out slowly to touch his arm in a firm squeeze. 

Dean couldn't talk about it yet, not when his mind was still spinning, and he didn't know how to handle this, how to make things okay for his little brother with those big, watery eyes and full, pouty lips. So he shook his head and reached out for Sam's bag instead, leaving the motel room without a word.

And it really was a sign of how well Sam knew him, because he followed without question, trailing along to the Impala and climbing into the passenger seat. The doors squeaked as they opened, closed, and Dean didn't bother with a last look around. 

They drove because it was one of the things he knew how to do best. Even if he wasn't sure where they were going, or what they'd do when they got there, or if maybe it would be better to just go to Bobby's, because Dean didn't feel grown up enough to handle this.

Sam didn't talk - or if he did Dean didn't hear him - until the sun had started to set and the fuel light had come on. 

"Where we going, Dean?"

For whatever reason, that snapped Dean out of his spiraling thoughts. In the next minute, he was pulling off the highway and following the ramp down into a small town, somewhere to stop and rest for a while. Dean filled up the car, got them food and a room, and didn't answer Sam's million-dollar question. 

Until, of course, they were tucked behind a closed door with salt lines in place at the window sill and door frame. Sam didn't ask again but Dean could feel the question lingering between them, and he knew it was only a matter of time before their tentative peace was shattered. Sure, Sam might have sensed his urgency earlier and followed along obediently, but he was still fourteen years old and was bound to have a hissy fit sometime in the very near future if Dean didn't explain _everything_.

"Sam," Dean exhaled steadily and dropped down hard onto the edge of the bed, lips parting and closing as he fought to find the words. "Dad's dead."

They hung between them like the echo of a gunshot - like the one still echoing in Dean's ears - and he couldn't bring himself to look up. The bed dipped as Sam sat beside him, and Dean couldn't help bracing himself for the emotional explosion. 

Dean was almost eighteen, he was a grown up and wouldn't really suffer any repercussions - expect missing the man who'd raised him, shaped him, changed every little thing about him. Sam was only fourteen though, and technically, Dean supposed, he was the property of the state now. Reason one on a list of a million why they'd left so quickly.

Accepting that his dad was dead and they were all alone? Dean could figure that out; he could handle it because he had to. Losing Sam? That was not something to be _handled_. Dean wouldn't survive it. Sam was just too damn important.

"You watched it happen?" Sam whispered and slowly sank into Dean's side, curling an arm around his middle. "How did it... was he hurt a lot?"

Dean had kind of anticipated Sam freaking out - he was ready to duck out of the way of flying plates and vulgar words - so the strong and comforting touch? It shook him in a way he wasn't prepared for. For the first time since the warehouse and the moment Dean witnessed, knowing their lives were about to change forever, tears pricked at his eyes. 

"It was quick. Don't think he hurt much. The demon had... there was a gun, I didn't see it. Shot went straight through his head." Dean swallowed thickly and shook his head, hoping the emotion wasn't affecting his voice too much. It would just freak Sam out unnecessarily, watching Dean lose it. "Took him down though, that bastard demon. Sent him back to the pits so fast, then stayed long enough to burn down the warehouse... Dad would have wanted that."

Sam clutched him just a little too hard, arms squeezing tight around Dean, head burying into the flesh at his neck. Dean could feel the wet heat of slick tears and he wrapped his arms around Sam, holding his brother like he hadn't since Sam was a small kid. 

"We're gonna be okay, Sammy, I promise. I'll look after us. I promise I'll always take care of you." Dean would sell his damn ass on the streets if he had to, as long as it meant Sam had food to eat and a place to sleep.

"That’s not what I'm worried about." Sam sniffed and sat back, scrubbing the tears away from under his eyes. "You've been lookin' after me for years, I know that's not gonna change. I just... don't let them take me away okay? I don't want to be without you."

"Why do you think we left?" Dean smiled sadly and swept his thumb over Sam's cheek. He'd honestly expected his brother to be more upset about the loss of their father, but he was pretty sure they were both still dealing with shock. It was going to take a while to truly accept everything that had happened today. "You're not _ever_ going to be without me, I promise. I'm not lettin' anyone take you away, you hear me?"

"Yeah. Okay." Sam shrugged and slumped back against Dean's body, squeezing him tight. "You think Dad's with Mom in Heaven now? Maybe they're happy together?"

Dean didn't have a lot of thoughts about the great beyond - outside of Hell and demons and fucking poltergeists - and normally he'd tease Sam about his idyllic thoughts. This time he simply squeezed his brother harder and pressed his lips to wavy, golden brown hair. "Yeah Sammy, I think they are."

~Now~

Sweeping his gaze around the yard, Dean pulled in a few steadying breaths before turning to face his brother. As much as it irritated him that Sam was here - this was so stupid, Sam had just fucked up his entire life more than it had ever been - he couldn't help being pleased. A slow smirk crawled across his lips and he shoved his hands into his pockets to keep from reaching out and grabbing Sam to tug him close. 

A few stolen kisses were not enough to make up for eighteen months without the man.

"Well? You gonna explain whatever your crazy ass plan is?" Dean arched a brow and turned away, hoping they didn't look suspicious enough to draw unwanted attention.

Sam laughed softly like it was all some big joke, like they both weren't locked in a prison that was almost as dangerous as some of the shit they'd been around their whole lives. "What if my plan is fucking in the showers? Something about dropped soap?"

"Dammit, Sam," Dean groaned and scrubbed fingers up through his hair, shooting his brother an under-heated glare. "It's hard enough to watch my own back here, now I'm gonna have to watch yours, too?"

"Hey, I can take care of myself. I'm not a kid anymore." Sam's shoulders stiffened and he stared off into the yard, nodding at someone as they looked their way. Funny, over the years Dean had never noticed the subtle ways Sam had grown, but now it was glaringly obvious. His jaw was stronger, the muscles corded in his neck, his arms filled out like he’d developed some extreme regime to keep in shape – keep his mind off Dean – in the time they’d been separated.

Sam’s nod was just subtle enough for Dean to understand there was more being said. Dean turned to look in the same direction and his eyes widened slightly before dropping. "Is that... fuck, is that Rufus, Sam? What the hell is going on?"

"Come on, Dean, did you really think I'd just leave you to rot in here?" Sam dropped his voice to a low murmur and stepped forward, just barely letting their shoulders brush together. "Relax, I know what I'm doing. We've worked out all the details."

Dean considered yelling at Sam, shoving him back and letting him know just how damn _stupid_ the very idea of breaking him out of jail was. But, fuck, what alternative did he have? And he knew Sam would have considered all the risks. Sure they were each other’s everything, maybe even each other’s greatest weakness, but Sam was still the logical one. 

Dean was more likely to be the one rushing head-first into danger when it came to saving Sam.

"You still trust me, don't you?" Sam murmured and dropped his gaze, shuffling his foot along the dirt, swaying in that self-conscious little way that was still just as adorable as it had always been.

Out of his control, a slow smile grew across Dean's lips and he kicked Sam's shin to stop himself from looking so ridiculous. "Stop being a shit and fill me in on this grand plan of yours. I am ready to get the fuck out of here."

Sam lifted his head and shot Dean one of his patent, brilliant, megawatt grins. "Okay well, it involves Rufus as a guard - he's been working at another state prison for the last year, just got transferred here last week. And Bobby as a driver. And Ash as... well, Ash."

Learning just how long this plan had been forming made that tightness in Dean's chest ease slightly. Sam hadn't forgotten about him, or left him behind for bigger and better things, and Dean wasn't really sure why he'd ever thought his brother had. You didn't spend your entire life gravitating around only one person then simply forget them in a year and a half.

And well, when it came down to it, no one could ever compare to what they had together, and that was something Dean never doubted.

~2000~

"Ow. Ow ow ow." Sam whined - fucking _whined_ \- as Dean struggled to help him into the room and all but threw him down on the bed. "God. Fuck, Dean. Asshole!"

"Shut the hell up, Sam, you big baby." Dean rolled his eyes and considered just leaving his brother to his emo-ness and heading out to get some food. But a whimper fell from Sam's lips as he slid back on the mattress and Dean's tendency to be a little over-obsessive when it came to his brother's wellbeing took over. "Alright, shirt off, let's see the damage."

"No. You're just gonna tease me more." 

When Dean glanced over, he wasn't all that surprised to see a full-on pout tugging Sam's lip out. "Sam? Either let me see or I'll kick your ass and then _make_ you let me see. So?"

"I hate you," Sam muttered and slowly shifted around until he could tug his shirt off, tossing it across the room.

Dean caught a flash of bright red blood and Sam's watery eyes before turning back to his bag and yanking out the first aid kit. He was pretty sure it wasn't as bad as it looked but worry gnawed at the pit of his stomach and he headed swiftly over to the bedside. He tried to keep the worry out of his eyes as he dipped in, using an alcohol swab to clean the blood away and get to the cut.

"I don't really," Sam whispered a few minutes later, biting down on his lip as Dean paused and looked up at him. "I don't really hate you."

"I know you don't, Sammy," Dean laughed and shook his head, smirking when Sam hissed as he cleaned over the cut. "You think I'm the shit and I am, so chill."

"Stop," Sam gasped out as Dean's fingers brushed over his middle.

For a moment, Dean thought he'd hurt his brother, that maybe the cut he'd gotten when the ghost started chucking furniture their way was just the surface wound and the bruise was much deeper. But when he looked up again and met Sam's gaze, it was to find something not at all pain-related. 

And it wasn't like Dean never thought about it, never realized that their closeness - especially the bond that had developed over the last two years - was a little abnormal. Or considered how he shouldn't think of things like those soft, pink lips and creamy white skin. Whenever Dean had those thoughts before - back when Dad was still alive, when Sam was just a kid - it was so easy to see all the reasons they shouldn't.

But it was just them now, it always would be, and Dean couldn't remember all the arguments that had sounded so convincing in the past. Except maybe the fact that Sam was still just a kid. 

"Sam," Dean breathed and slowly sat back on his heels, shaking his head a beat later and reaching out for a Band-Aid. "Knock it off. You don't - it's not - you don't want to go there okay? Trust me."

"I'm not a kid, Dean. It's not like I don't know what it means." A frown tugged at Sam's lips and he moved away from Dean's lingering touch over his wound. "Can't we just... it's not like anyone would know, or could even hold it against us. You're all I have, you're my everything, I just want... more. More than everything."

Being responsible for a teenager wasn't always the easiest thing, especially when you were still technically a teenager yourself. Dean always felt like he was working so hard, making sure they had enough money for food and a motel room, calling in favors from people like Ash at the Harvelle’s bar to make sure Sam could finish school legally. 

So Dean probably caved a lot easier than Sam expected. The boy had probably built up a whole collection of arguments - he was good at arguing the _why I'm right_ thing - but Dean just didn't have it in him. Because Sam _was_ right. No one would know. There was no one in their little world outside of them. And Dean wanted that _more_ Sam was talking about just as much. 

It took less than two minutes for him to make up his mind and move forward, drawing Sam close. The boy hissed as the edges of his cut pressed together but he didn't pull away, hovering in place inches from his lips where Dean held him. "Are you sure, Sam? There’s no going back from this. It changes everything."

"No, it doesn't. Not really." Sam laughed softly and slid his fingers up Dean's arm. "Kiss me, Dean. Come on."

Dean was a little surprised by the jolt that shot through him as their lips finally met, but he probably shouldn't have been. Sam always made him feel more than what made sense. In the next beat, they exploded into movement, lips crash-colliding hard, Dean pushing up off the floor as Sam fell back on the bed, and they kicked the first aid kit to the ground. Dean couldn't get enough of Sam's lips sliding hard and constant and perfect against his, fingers digging into golden, wavy hair.

"God, Sam," Dean gasped as their lips parted and they rolled together, sliding along the mattress and tangling up in the blankets. He really hadn't anticipated this, how quickly they'd fall together and start tugging at each other's clothing with needy moans. 

"Touch me. C'mon, Dean - you gotta." Sam latched his teeth into Dean's lower lip and dragged it out, pushing his fingers up under Dean's shirt. 

Dean smirked - considering teasing his obviously virgin baby brother about being a little over-eager - but a beat later Sam's hand rolled against his crotch, dragging steadily over the hard length. It was a lot braver than Dean anticipated and his body jerked up, all thoughts of teasing vanishing from the tip of his tongue. "Fuck, Sammy, how long you been wanting this?"

"A stupid-ass long time," Sam huffed a laugh and sat back long enough to shove at Dean's jeans, pushing the denim back until he could slip his hand forward.

Their bodies collided, clothing torn off and thrown to the floor, skin slipping and sliding together. When Dean rolled his hips up, his body shuddered, the slide of their cocks the perfect friction thrill. Dean sucked on Sam's tongue and worked his hand between their bodies, stretching his fingers out to wrap around them both and stroke over the heated flesh. 

"Oh fuck," Sam gasped out and lurched forward, biting clumsily at Dean's lower lip and thrusting his hips up. 

It was hotter than Dean anticipated: Sam's eagerness, the quick, fumbling brushes of their lips together. It had been awhile since Dean was with someone - since before their Dad died, if Dean was being honest, but that was understandable - and he could feel the heat of his release building up in him. Turned out it was a good thing he hadn't teased Sam earlier, because coming this quickly? Sam would have mocked him for sure. 

Except, a beat later, Sam was the one shuddering against him, the hot splash of their release spraying over his skin, and Dean captured his brother's lips in a deep kiss because he was getting a little loud. Not that Dean didn't want to hear Sam, because he was pretty sure there was absolutely nothing better. 

Dean panted through his own release, fingers moving swiftly over his cock to slick the heat of his brother's come into his skin. Sam's hands were in constant motion along his body, tracing down his back, over the curve of his ass. The touch was softer than Dean anticipated, comforting and soothing in a way Dean never thought he'd want. But then, he'd resolutely been ignoring all thoughts of Sam in _this way_ because it seemed safer. 

"I can't ever be without you," Sam breathed into the post-orgasm silence, curling up against Dean's side and holding tight. "Not ever."

"Who says you'll have to be?" Dean murmured and brushed his lips over Sam's temple. "Always you and me, Sammy, you know that."

Sam pushed back and peered down at Dean, wetting his lips slowly. "What if I go to college? What if I don't want to hunt all the time and want to finish my school?"

Dean stared up at his brother with arched brows, wondering if the idea of not hunting would swell a rise of panic in him that would cause a big blowout between them. When it didn't come, Dean was probably more surprised than he should have been. After all, what he'd said was the truth: it would _always_ be him and Sam. "Then I'll go with you. We'll get a place. You'll get all smart and I'll get a job, hunt every now and then. We'll make it work."

For a while, Sam considered him with narrowed eyes - probably trying to read his mind; it wasn't as impossible as one might think - then a slow smile grew across his lips. And yeah, Dean could handle settling down, playing house, especially if it brought that dimple-laced grin to Sam's face.

~Now~

There was a pretty good chance that this was a stupid idea. A _very_ stupid idea. Dean kept wanting to point that out to Sam - insist they could somehow make their relationship work within the prison gates, because at least they were together - but the amount of teasing he'd have to put up with was enough to keep him silent. After all, Dean wasn't really ever nervous or unsure; he was the brave and fearless one, which should be enough.

It didn't stop his hands from shaking, however, when Rufus stepped up to him, hooking the shackles into place around his wrists and ankles. There were two guards standing at watch behind them and Dean tried to keep his expression bored, completely unfazed.

"Stop shaking," Rufus muttered quietly, shooting Dean a look. "It's gonna work, Dean."

He barely dipped his head in a nod and glanced sideways over at Sam, watching as Rufus moved to shackle him up to the chain. Dean didn't understand all the logistics as to how this plan worked. Sam hadn't really been able to give him a complete break-down because there was no saying who was listening no matter how quietly they spoke.

But what he did know was that Ash had hacked the prison’s systems, scheduling for Sam and Dean to be the only prisoners on this move. Rufus would be accompanying them as a guard and Bobby would be their driver. Dean wasn't completely sold on the idea that no one would be able to track them down, tie all of their identities together, but it wasn't like he was really in a position to complain.

It wasn't as if Dean wanted to stay in jail for a crime he hadn't even committed. And, as he slowly trailed Rufus down steel and concrete hallways, he couldn't stop thinking about the man shuffling behind him. Dean had never even realized how much he could genuinely miss someone until he had to go eighteen months without touching Sam, without hearing his laugh or feeling the spark of his kiss. 

Dean had survived the loss of his mother as a child; had actually been okay after the loss of his father as a teenager, but losing Sam? That had nearly killed him. And their loss hadn't even been permanent. Dean knew he wasn't strong enough to go without him for the rest of his life. 

"I can't wait to have you all to myself again. I'm gonna get you out of here," Sam whispered against the back of his ear, sending a shiver down Dean's spine that he barely concealed. Dean knew Sam felt responsible for him being locked up, and no matter how many times they covered the issue, Dean couldn't convince him otherwise.

"Keep it quiet back there!" Rufus hollered over his shoulder, shooting them both a look that was maybe a little too entertained.

Dean was pretty sure Rufus was getting a kick out of this, more than he should at least. He ducked his head down but glanced back just enough to send Sam a private look. 

Maybe this entire plan was fucked from the get-go; maybe they would get busted and spend the rest of their lives locked up in solitude. But... maybe it would work. Just in case - stranger things had happened - Dean made a silent promise that he would never leave Sam's side again.

~2005~

"God damn. Bloody Mary, can you believe that shit?" Dean laughed and flopped back on the bed, faint smile on his lips as he adjusted into Sam's heat at his side. "Coulda sworn that was a myth."

"Is anything really a myth?" Sam muttered, distracted by the book in his hands.

Well, Dean just wasn't having that. He'd just gotten back after all, and Sam could stop studying long enough for a proper welcome. Dean inched closer and dipped forward, sliding his lips along Sam's neck, kissing along his skin. "Pretty sure Big Foot is."

"Mm, wouldn't be too sure of that," Sam breathed, head tilting to the side even as his grip tightened on the book. "Dean... got a call yesterday, from Becky."

"Uh huh, that's nice." Dean didn't want to talk about some girl he vaguely remembered. He’d met Sam's friends - always pretending to be Sam's boyfriend because their relationship was too complicated to explain - and for the most part they were good people. But Dean would much rather reacquaint himself with his brother's body than catch up on social gossip.

"Her brother's in trouble," Sam gasped out as Dean's fingers slipped under his waistline. "D-Dean, come on, listen to me."

"M'listenin'," Dean muttered and worked Sam's fly beneath his fingers, nudging Sam's book out of the way so he could roll over onto his body. 

"You are not, stop." When Sam pushed up and slid out from under Dean, it really only made Dean smirk. Mainly because Sam was obviously hard, his cheeks flushed, and it was adorable sometimes when Sam got irrationally huffy about things.

So Dean played it up, sighing heavily and rolling away to turn his back to Sam, and began unbuttoning his shirt. "Fine. What do you want, Sam? Am I supposed to fix this or something?"

"Come on, Dean, you know I didn't mean..." Sam sighed and the mattress squeaked as he slid over, tucking in behind Dean's back so his legs settled on either side. "They think he killed his girlfriend, but Becky's convinced he didn't. It’s completely out of character for him. I looked into things a bit and there are a few cases that seem really out there... I just thought maybe you could look into it. I could come with."

"Finals are soon," Dean whispered and sank back against Sam, because he wasn't really mad and he wanted his brother to know that. "I was going to take break for a while. Spend some time with you."

Sam pressed a kissed to Dean's neck, inhaling steadily. "I know. And I really want you here, but Becky's really freaked out. Maybe it's all just a misunderstanding, maybe it's nothing, but..."

Yeah, it was the ‘maybe’ that would get Dean to cave in the end. And he did remember Becky, she'd been really open and accepting when it came to their relationship, Dean couldn't _not_ help her out. So he gave in, closing his eyes and turning to brush his lips over Sam's jaw. "You owe me."

"God, don't I know it," Sam laughed and slid his hands down between Dean's legs, messaging slowly over his crotch. "Don't have to leave 'til the morning, let me show you all the things I'm gonna do to thank you when you get back?"

"Okay, that better include my laundry," Dean laughed thickly and squirmed back. He was such a sucker for Sam, it was pathetic. But at least it was for a good cause.

~Now~

It was easier than Dean thought it would be, pretending like he didn't know Bobby as they climbed into the transport van, sliding onto the bench and looking out the window. They didn't speak as the drive began, and Dean eyed the security camera above the driver’s seat with a narrowed gaze before swallowing thickly. He wondered if maybe Ash was hacking into the system as part of the plan.

Dean kept his eyes focused out the window, palms sweating as they traveled further from the prison. He watched the fields flying past and tried to wrap his mind around the idea of freedom. What the hell would he and Sam do now? It wasn't like their life could just pick up from where it left off.

He wasn't even sure how much effort would go into the search for him, but there was a pretty good chance he and Sam wouldn't even be able to stay in the country. Truthfully, it didn't matter where they went. Not as long as Sam was with him.

Dean wasn't entirely sure how they'd decided where to run the van off the road, and he wouldn’t have guessed it would be this particular area. But, out of the corner of his eye, he watched Sam's shoulders tense just slightly - no one else would probably notice but Dean, who was still finely tuned into all things Sam - and he braced himself for what was obviously about to come. 

The screech of tires echoed loudly around them moments before a truck rammed hard into the back of the van, sending them spinning in a whiplash into the field. For a moment, Dean worried the van was about to flip and he reached out, clutching Sam's thigh tightly. 

When the engine stopped ticking and Dean's heart began to slow, his eyes widened as he looked around the van in confusion. This couldn't be the plan, right? Because no one would find it believable that two chained prisoners had somehow managed to overpower a driver and a guard after such an insignificant crash.

"Alright, let's get moving," Bobby grunted and quickly slid out of the driver's seat, the door creaking open.

Dean's lips pursed but he raised his hand as Rufus reached forward and quickly unlocked them both. Outside, he could see Ash and Bobby pulling long bags from the back of the truck and his eyes widened as he recognized the shape. "Are you fucking kidding me?"

"They were already dead, Dean, don't worry," Sam said quickly, pulling at the top of his orange jumper as he climbed towards the side door.

It seemed a little unfair, how everyone knew this part of the plan and Dean's mind was fumbling quickly to catch up. "I thought you said we were knocking Bobby out? And Rufus. What the hell are we doing exactly?"

"Well it's not like we can really go on living any sort of life if they're looking for us," Sam reasoned and reached into the cab of the truck, tugging out a stack of clothes. "Get changed, we're on limited time here.”

Somehow it was still just as easy to do exactly what Sam said, though Dean had a million more questions. But he followed the orders, changing into his own clothing - which was kind of amazing after months of that stupid, damn jumpsuit - then redressing the bare corpse he was pointed towards. Dean's stomach churned but he swallowed back the rising bile - you did what you had to, right?

"Okay, _now_ can someone fill me in?" Dean huffed as he helped Sam carry one of the jumpsuit-covered bodies into the van.

"We're gonna blow up the van," Sam said over his shoulder, bending down to re-shackle the bodies’ ankles. "Ash hacked into the video feed. Right now it looks like we're still driving, but he's gonna edit it and sync up the image of the crash and then the van bursting into flames. By the time anyone gets out here to help, the van will be in pieces, and you, me, and the driver will be assumed dead."

It all sounded very clever, and a little like something Dean might see in a movie. His gaze slid over to Rufus, the slightest smirk pulling at his lips as he watched Bobby land a punch hard enough into his lower lip to make it bleed. "And I'm guessing he magically escaped?"

"I am one fucking convincing liar, son." Rufus smirked toward Dean and tugged hard at his shirt, sending buttons flying. "Between my testimony and the video feed, they won't even think about the fact that they can't find any teeth for dental records. They'll write you both off as dead, especially with no family there to question. Less work for them in the long run."

"And the fact that Sam is my brother won't seem at all weird to them?" Dean was more impressed than he was willing to admit. How they'd managed to come up with this crazy-ass plan, he had no clue.

"Come on Dean, you think we'd go through all this work and then be stupid enough to let Sam get arrested with the same last name as you?" Ash arched a brow at Dean as he glanced up from his computer, clearly not impressed with Dean's apparently stupid question.

Dean huffed a breathy laugh and looked between the men, gaze lingering on his brother. It wasn't lost on him just what big risks all these men were taking to help him, and he was pretty sure he'd never be able to say thank you enough. "Well then, let's blow up a van."

~2005~

"Sam? Listen to me, this is so - fuck, just give me a minute okay? I get my damn phone call!" Dean snapped at the officer grabbing his shoulder. This wasn't happening, there was no fucking way. Dean knew he had shit luck, but _seriously_.

"Dean? What's going on? Becky called and said you were... Jesus, are you okay?" Sam sounded worried on the line, his voice tight and strained in that way it always got when he was just about to freak out.

Dean shoved his fingers hard up into his hair and pulled, as if the sting of pain would somehow wake him up from this nightmare he'd stumbled into. "Shapeshifter, Sam. That's what -" The officer at his side coughed and narrowed his eyes at Dean, obviously listening in on the conversation. Dean turned away as much as possible and dropped his voice to a low whisper. "It took my shape. They think I killed - they're blaming me, okay? They have my picture at the scene of the crime."

"Fuck," Sam gasped and Dean was relieved that he hadn't been out of the business long enough to forget exactly what a shapeshifter was. Or maybe Sam had already reached that conclusion from the times Dean had called over the last couple of days to fill him in. "I'm gonna come up there, prove it wasn't you. It’ll be okay."

There really wasn't any way for Sam to prove it wasn't him. How could he explain away the video evidence? It was an open-and-close case in the eyes of the DA. Dean rode out the wave of agony at the idea of what would happen now, how he would lose Sam because of some damn piece of supernatural shit. "It's okay, Sam. Just be safe alright? Know that I love you, always. Look after yourself."

"Damnit, Dean, stop. Don't talk like that. I'm gonna get you out of there." Things were rustling in the background, Sam probably packing a bag.

Dean would probably argue longer, tell Sam how stupid it was to come when there was nothing he could do, but the idea of seeing his brother in person at least once more before being tossed in jail? He couldn't resist. "Gee, nice to know you love me, too."

"You know I do," Sam sighed heavily and the mattress squeaked beneath him, sparking up the most intense longing in Dean. He never should have taken this damn case. And apparently Sam must have been thinking the same thing. "I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have made you go."

"Hey, don't blame yourself, I'm the idiot who fucked up and didn't play it safe enough," Dean whispered and the officer behind him practically growled and tapped his shoulder. "Sam? I gotta go. Please just - please be safe."

"I'll be there as soon as I can, Dean, I promise. I love you."

Before Dean could answer, the officer snatched the phone from his hand and slammed it down onto the cradle. A scowl pulled at Dean's lips and he stuffed his hands into his pockets to keep from doing something he might regret - like slamming his fist into the asshole's jaw.

At least Sam was coming. And Dean told himself he'd be okay with seeing his brother just one more time.

~Now~

Dean couldn't help it, a low moan rumbled through him as his fingers slid over the black, shiny surface that he'd honestly thought he'd never see again. Excited, he glanced up and Sam was smirking at him, leaning against the passenger side and dragging a hand through golden hair that had gotten a little ridiculously long.

"Knew I'd never convince you to go on the lam without her," Sam murmured and shrugged, glancing over his shoulder and then back. 

The smile on Sam’s lips was growing and Dean knew the feeling. Ash and Bobby had taken care to stash the Impala out in the middle of nowhere, a good three hundred miles from the place the van had been run off the side of the road. He wondered how things were playing out at the smoldering wreck, whether they'd already been dismissed as dead.

"So, you're a free man." Sam slid along the shiny black surface, smile growing as he crossed to Dean and curled his arm around his brother’s shoulder, dragging him in and letting their lips brush slowly together. "Any idea what you're gonna do now?"

"I'm thinking Disneyworld," Dean laughed softly and tugged Sam in, kissing him roughly. 

_Free_. He really liked the sound of that.

In fact, the moment it truly sank in, Dean found himself exploding into movement because being free meant finally having Sam as his own again. A soft grunt fell from Sam's lips as he sank into the kiss, wrapping his arms tight around Dean and tugging him as close as possible. Dean tangled his fingers up into Sam's hair, pulling hard enough to cause a whimper to fall into the kiss. 

They fumbled around for a few minutes and Dean considered how stupid this probably was, no matter how hidden the car might be. If anyone stumbled upon them now, well, it would sort of defeat the whole purpose of their escape. 

"Dean," Sam gasped out and slipped his hands under the back of Dean's shirt, pushing the material up and sliding his fingers over smooth skin. 

"Get in the car." Dean shoved at his brother, spinning and tugging the back door open. Sam's brows arched and Dean snorted a laugh. "Come on, you can't tell me you don't miss backseat sex."

"I am not sixteen years old anymore, dude." Lips quirking into a smirk, Sam slid his hand down and flicked the button open on his jeans. "You owe me a massage later when I get all out of whack because of this."

"Still a whiny bitch, some things never change." Dean grinned and stepped in, shoving Sam's jeans down in one swift movement. The grin faded slightly as Sam sucked in a sharp breath and swayed forward, sliding his lips along Dean's neck in a familiar caress. "Did you... I mean, I'd get it. Eighteen months. Long-ass time to wait."

Sam's fingers dug hard into Dean's hips, gripping above the jeans just a little too tightly. "You are not even asking me that, you asshole."

"Hey man, just making sure. I know how much of a cock-slut you are, didn't know if you could handle waiting." Dean swallowed the rising hiss and arched forward, eyes fluttering closed as Sam rubbed with a little too much force over his crotch.

"Does this mean you didn't wait? Find yourself a nice piece of ass behind bars, Dean?" Sam shoved roughly at Dean's jeans and, a beat later, they swayed back, all but collapsing onto the backseat made of cool leather.

Dean groaned as his head smacked too hard into the door, body arching up long enough to pull cotton over his chest. "Trust me, Sam, no matter how desperate I got, there was _no one_ in that damn place worth having some secret hook up with. Makes me a little queasy just thinking about it."

"Glad to hear how your never-ending love and devotion to me was enough to keep you loyal for a year and a half." Sam rolled his eyes a little too hard and reached under the seat, tugging out a bottle of lube that Dean was pretty sure was left over from when they'd last been together back here. 

There was some sort of snarky retort building up on Dean's lips, but Sam moved a lot faster than he anticipated. A deep, low moan shook through Dean as his legs were spread as wide as they could go in the confined space and Sam's finger rubbed a slow, steady circle over his hole. He forgot how intense the initial brush over his hole could feel, the way Sam's breath hitched as he slid his finger forward.

"God I missed you," Sam gasped and fell against Dean's chest, crushing their lips together as his finger slid all the way forward. "Don't ever leave me again. Can't be without you. Can't breathe without you."

"Never, Sammy, never leaving again." It was all desperation now and Dean really wasn't complaining. Later, when they were settled in somewhere, Dean would spread his brother out on a bed and take his time stretching the man open. He'd fuck into him slow and steady for hours until they both hit their peaks and passed out from the level of _far too good_.

Right now though, he wanted his brother to take him, fast and dirty, and he didn't want to wait any longer. He dug fingernails into Sam's shoulders and claimed his mouth in a rough kiss, digging his knees into the seats to give Sam as much room to move as possible. By the time Sam had three fingers moving sloppy and quick inside him, Dean was panting roughly and writhing constantly.

"C'mon, Sam," Dean grunted and rocked up, clenching tight around Sam's fingers. "Fuck me. Know you want it."

Sam moaned and pulled his fingers back, sliding lube quickly over his hard flesh. "There was never anyone else. Never could be, no one compared to you."

"I know," Dean murmured, smirking when Sam peered down at him and flicked hair off his sweaty brow. 

"So god damn cocky." Sam shook his head and laughed roughly, then lined himself up at Dean's entrance and slammed brutally forward.

Their bodies crashed together and Dean moaned, ignoring the protest of his muscles as he arched into the touch. Before Sam became his absolute everything, Dean had never thought he'd find himself in this kind of position. Skin flushed and beaded with sweat, legs spread wantonly wide, lips parted around pants as he all but begged his brother to fuck into him with all he had. 

Dean closed his eyes and drank in the conflicting waves of absolutely everything. A whole life spent growing up with a father who put his mission before his sons, the loss of the man they should have cared more for, and then colliding and winding around one another in a way two brothers probably never should. And every time Sam's cock slid inside him, throbbing and angled in the best way to send shudders of pleasure up his spine, Dean thought it was worth all the things that maybe shouldn't be.

All of those feelings that were always too much between them had simmered over the last eighteen months spent apart, and this was like the boiling-over explosion. Their lips crushed hard and painful together, skin slick and sliding slowly against one another, muscles bunching and pulling. Dean could hear the squeak of protest from the tires as the car rocked, and it brought a smile flickering across his lips. 

But it had been a while, too long, and by the time Sam's hand was between them and moving over his cock, Dean was too close to hold on. His spine arched off the warmed leather and his fingers pulled hard at golden hair. 

"God, Dean," Sam grunted and slammed into him, slick, hot release filling Dean in a way he hadn't even realized he'd missed. 

When Sam collapsed against him, Dean's face scrunched up, the feel of his own release smooshing between their skin wasn't nearly as pleasant as Sam's filling him. "Better not get any on the seats, asshole."

"Ah yeah, I definitely missed you," Sam laughed and pressed his lips hard against Dean's temple. "So, ready to start a new life with me? Lots of potential."

"Yeah, I'd say I definitely am." Dean's arms curled tight around Sam and it felt like he'd never been gone.


End file.
